


Divide and Multiply

by AslansCompass



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In fifteen minutes, at midnight on the thirteenth of Delution, the Guabancexian Parliament will execute the infamous criminal River Song.<br/>The Guabancexian Parliament believes that I am River Song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divide and Multiply

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction dot net and A Teaspoon and an Open Mind as "River, Pond; Melody, Song", but chapters have since been edited

In fifteen minutes, at midnight on the thirteenth of Delution, the Guabancexian Parliament will execute the infamous criminal River Song.

The Guabancexian Parliament believes that I am River Song.

I place my hand above my left breast to feel the heart beating fast enough to power a spaceship. But there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I may not be on the witness stand, but the private cells are double-locked, heavily monitored,  running on a private air system that can feed knockout gas in a moment.

I stare through the glass walls, watching the monitor. Even in baggy trousers and camouflage, she stands like a queen presiding over her vassals. River Song: part Time Lord, part human, and entirely unpredictable. 

“We weren’t prepared for two of you,” my executioner remarks. “But if it's meant to be a clever trick, it wasn't clever enough."

I suppose not.  There certainly hadn't been a trial, an interview, a cross-examination. The officials had hustled me off to the maximum-security cells before I could even ask my crimes.  I'd been in this cell for two hours, forty-three minutes and odd seconds; this is the closest anyone has come to conversation.

I force myself to look at the woman. Her straight brown hair is pulled back in a bun,  leaving streaks of grey visible,  clothing was obviously chosen for no-nonsense comfort.  “I suppose I should ask if you have any last words.”

What canI say? I didn't know what crimes River (we) had been accused of.  Did they need a reason? She was Melody Pond, the woman who kills the Doctor, a weapon who could appear anywhere, at any time.  I knew what she had done. I had been there for most of it. 

From a certain point of view,  I _had_ done it.

The listing of River’s crimes continues, with holographic representations of her charges. Some of the planets are more or less correct. Clom, for example, and Woman Wept. But they don’t include the quiet ones, the beautiful ones that I found while chasing her, the ones where I splintered from we.

L’angel, where I cradled a newborn binary star in my hands.

Florana, whose seas were smooth as warm milk.

Iza Septimus, where waters ranged from finger-high to higher than Everest.

  
“For these crimes, and many more, we sentence Doctor River Song to vaporization.” The air ripples with anticipation.

 _That’s him coming for me now._ The pronoun needs no antecedent, no proper name to clarify its meaning.  'Him' is the only person who matters in the universe,  the man we have been training to fight since birth, the greatest foe of all free peoples. The Doctor is coming for Melody Pond; the Warrior is claiming his battle hymn. 

She twists, nearly too quick to see how, and one cuff is loose. Soldiers, advisers, governors, and guards crowd the platform, each with a weapon trained on her—there’s still no way she can escape.

Even though I can’t hear the TARDIS materialize, I can feel it. Our third strand hums with the tension of time travel, the sudden rush of atron energy, a nearly inaudible whisper like a cat’s purring. Level with the stage, one door swings open. “Jump! “ he screams. “I’ll catch you.”

Ignoring the two-meter drop onto jagged rocks—a Guabancexian precaution against escapees—River leaps from the edge. From my angle, I can’t see inside—but no body falls to the rocks. The TARDIS revolves, dissolving into nothing.

Silence is broken by a hundred shouts. Anger, confusion, bewilderment, laughter, all break beneath the weight of terror. They had planned to execute River Song, and she is suddenly gone. She could be anywhere in the universe, any galaxy, any solar system, any planet, any time.

Another voice cuts through the chaos. "Dorall, are you there?"

"I am, over." The woman replied to the intercom.

"I am sending you an attachment to escort the prisoner to the platform."

"Understood."  She pressed a button, releasing gas into the cell. 

It wasn't meant to be lethal, just enough to disorient me, make me easier to handle.  Even if I'm not entirely human, it still leaves me dazed, like waking up after a fight.  A squad arrives a minute later, surrounding the cell on all sides, training their weapons on me.  The cell door swings open, letting me onto the path; one warns me that without an implanted ID tag, leaving the path will result in electronic shots of increasing intensity.  

This is it. This is it.  I start reaching my left hand towards my right palm, but one of the guards stops me.   "No tricks."

We enter the cacophony of the courtroom.  People are demanding answers, calling for justice, shouting incoherently. 

A young boy, no more than eight, turns around, staring wildly. Our eyes meet.

“She’s still here! Come on, she’s still here.”

A woman nearby lifts her head—the boy’s mother? “That’s her." The cry is carried from her tongue to a neighbor’s ears.

“Melody Pond!”

“Melody!”

"Abandon post," the guard yells frantically.  "Abandon post."

In seconds, they disperse into the crowd. 

“She’s still here!”

“We can still execute justice!”

The mob surges towards me. I can distinguish individual faces—a wrinkled grandmother, a robotic technician still holding a programming unit, a bald teenage boy with a sonic baton, a mother and twin girls with laser pistols, even a visiting Graske. 

I would have died anyway. I would have have died anyway. But I'd expected an execution, a precise instant of pain.  Did any of these people know how to kill?  Rage is a keen instructor, but they still wouldn't be quick. A pipe to the head, a bullet in the gut,  kicks to the spine...

Words buzz through my head _riv_ _er song melody pond the forest’s water river pond melody song…._

A hum fills my mind. I whirl around, trying to see what's happening. A hint of blue hangs in the corner of my vision, a translucent curtain darkening. One moment I see the incoming crowd, the next blue panels, but always the blue is stronger. He’s going to land the TARDIS in the middle of the council chambers.  The mob hangs back, uncertain which to fear more; the mysterious box, or my escape. 

 _Vworp, vworp_. The door swings towards me, held open by a young man in a tweed jacket, suspenders, and a bowtie. The Doctor: our heart sees the words in shining gold against the stars of the Medusa Cascade. The Doctor: my mind trembles as he extends a hand. “Hello, I’m the Doctor.”

“Yes,” I manage to reply.

“I don’t suppose those people rushing towards you are some sort of fan club.”

I shake my head.

“Then it would probably be a very good thing if you were not here right now. Fancy a lift?” 

 I grab his hand. The TARDIS shakes again, beginning the dematerialization process. We tumble backwards onto the floor, nearly landing on top of each other. I stagger to my feet, walking up to the console. Something calls me like a magnet seeking north.

He bounds to his feet, rushing around the panels flipping switches, pressing buttons, and pulling levers.  The woman  steps back, watching with a smug smile.

“There we are then. Back into the vortex, and just in time too. I’ll have you know the TARDIS isn’t a bulldozer or hovercraft, she wasn’t built for that. Well, River,” his eyes flicker between us. Handcuffs still dangle from one of her wrists, while my unremarkable grey smock nearly slides off one shoulder. “I always knew you were trouble, but two of you….What have I gotten myself into this time?”

I press my hands against my breastbone, feeling the rhythm of two hearts trying to break through my skin.

 


End file.
